In Which Sherlock Gets Married (but not to who you think)
by YuTzi
Summary: ... and John and Moriarty team up.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys, this is my first fanfic. If you could review, comment, or like, it would would mean a lot to me :)**

_**John gets a girlfriend. Sherlock decides that the reason he's lonely is not that John is away. Nope, not one bit. No Mrs. Hudson, not even a little bit. So he does the most natural thing for Sherlock to do. He seduces John Watson's partner. And marries her.**_

_**...and Moriarty finds out.**_

* * *

John _growled_.

"Incorrect! Try again!" he sang. The whip lashed against his skin, leaving another deep cut.

"Wanna give me a kiss Johnny boy?" Moriarty asked.

"I will never give in to your sick perversions."

"Ooo honey, your dirty talk is soooo sexy!"

"Shut up Moriarty." John snarled.

"You should take lessons in manners, Johnny."

"Oh, because drugging someone, stuffing them in a van, then chaining them up to torture them isn't considered impolite?"

"Oh my, Sherlock's pet is getting_ rude_." He leaned in.

"But your Sherlock will come for you."

"No he won't. He's not my Sherlock. He doesn't care about me."

"Oh pet, you know as well as I do that for _John Watson_ he will tear the world down."

"No, he won't. Because Sherlock bloody Holmes has gotten himself married."

"..."

"WHHHAAAAAATT?!"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

_3 months earlier_

The situation was getting out of hand. Sherlock had been infected by some strange disease carried by John's girlfriend. Whenever John brought his girlfriend into the flat, a strange twisting in his stomach occured, and his chest pained him. He had to consult John.

"John?"

"Yes Sherlock?"

"What disease has the symptoms of chest pain, lowered level in consciousness, and nausea only in the gut?"

"Well, when do you feel like that?"

"..."

"Sherlock, you have to tell me. You could be infected with some life-threatening disease for all I know."

"There is a certain female. Whenever she talks with someone, my chest hurts and my brain doesn't _work_ and there's a strange feeling in my stomach."

"...Sherlock, that's not a disease."

"Well then, what is it?"

"It's called jealousy, or love. Whichever you prefer."

"..."

"Sherlock?"

"..."

"Sherlock! Don't throw up at the mention of emotion!"

When Sherlock had finished vomiting (and John had forced him to clean it), they started the conversation again. Or rather, John did.

"Sherlock? Who is it?"

"..."

"Is it Molly?"

"No."

"Is it... erm... hmm... is there any other female you interact with on a daily basis?"

"Donovan."

"What?! You're in love with Sally Donovan?"

Sherlock fixed him with an icy glare.

"Do you honestly believe that I would fall for _Sally Donovan_? I underestimated your intelligence, John."

"Fine then. Will you tell me?"

"No."

"...alright then."

And that had been the end of it.

"Hello, there." a dark voice purred.

She gulped and turned around. And it was...

holy-mother-of-fuck this man was _hot._ He had slicked back auburn hair, deep grey eyes, and good lord, that outfit. A deep purple shirt that was so tight you could practically hear the buttons screaming in protest, unbuttoned partially to show a long neck and a hint of muscular chest.

She stared. How the hell do you manage to get jeans on when they're that tight?! His arse was...

Oh this was not good. She was at her bachelorette party, she was NOT supposed to be fantasizing about other men. Well, she was, but she wasn't supposed to be _serious_ about it.

He smirked.

"Enjoying the view?"

She blushed crimson, and stuttered.

"Um, kinda."

Internal facepalm. The hottest man she had ever met, and she goes,"Um, kinda." Wait. He looked really familiar. Almost like...

"It's nice to see you again, Elizabeth. If you don't remember, I'm Sherlock."

_This_ was Sherlock? The one time Liz had met him, she had gazed upon his scraggly face and tangled curls for a grand total of 2.7 seconds before he spun around in his dressing gown, and left the flat, supposedly to 'get some human heads', according to John. She feared mildly for John's sanity, but had decided that his eccentric flat-mate was just a quirk.

"Your hair is different." she said.

"Case required that I change my appearance a bit." he said.

A bit? A bit?! That was not just 'a bit'!

"Of course, when I met you, my physical condition was not... the most flattering. I had just started a case you see."

Right, the man was a private detective or something of the sort.

"Umm..."

"Would you let me buy you a drink?" he asked.

Well why not. It was her last night as a free woman.

"Sure."

She woke up with a ferocious headache. She groaned as she sat up. And instantly froze. Because the figure in the sheets right beside her was not the sandy-blond haired, compact, broad-shouldered, tanned man she was used to. No, this person had a head of auburn hair and was thin, chiseled, and long. She looked down. No clothes. She glanced over at Sherlock. No clothes.

What had she done?!

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

John stretched and yawned. Where was Liz? Ah. She had gone out to her bachelorette party last night, and told John she would probably stay at a friend's house. Strange, there was no violin screeching. Where was Sherlock? Probably in his bedroom. Regardless of what the genius (read: idiot) told himself, you can't survive healthily on 5 hours of sleep. Every three days. So John went to the kitchen, popped some bread in the toaster, and set the kettle boiling.

"Sherlock, breakfast!"

Silence. No snarky, sarcastic reply, no noise, no sound. Strange.

"Sherlock?"

John walked through the kitchen and into Sherlock's bedroom.

And froze. Because the love of his life, his fiance, was lying naked next to Sherlock.


	2. Chapter 2

"John!" Liz exclaimed.  
"Sherlock." said John.  
"Yes John?" Sherlock asked.  
"What the bloody hell are you doing in bed with my fiancee?"  
"I can explain Jo-" Liz started.  
"Sherlock," John said, "I don't know if you heard my question. What are you doing in bed with Liz?"  
"Ah, that's a simple question." Sherlock replied. "My symptoms earlier, led me to believe that I am 'in love', so to speak with this fiancee of yours. Having nearly no experience in such emotion led me to consult the internet, as well as, ahem, Mycroft. He assured me that the symptoms I was experiencing were indeed love. As such, I proceeded to carry out an experiment, with satisfactory results."  
John just stared at Sherlock. He turned around, and breathed slowly, while counting to ten in Pashto. He stopped, and then turned to Liz.  
"Liz? What happened?" he asked.  
"Erm, John, let's talk outside." she said.  
"No need." said Sherlock. "I'll go get the tea." he said, in an unusual display of sensitivity.  
Sherlock left the room, leaving the couple to look awkwardly at each other.  
"Um, I'll put some clothes on." Liz said, and John looked to the side while she pulled on her knickers and her clothes.  
"So."  
"John, last night I discovered something. I... got drunk. Really, really drunk, and I went home with Sherlock, because he was so handsome and he flirted with me." Liz's eyes started to fill with tears. "But-t, I think John, that we don't go together. Sherlock made me realize - you don't give me any attention, and you're just not invested in this relationship. I- I think it's best if we end this."  
John gaped at her.  
A year of dating, 3 years as friends, a beautiful ring. After _one_ night with Sherlock she-  
Fine.  
"John I-"  
Oh, he had said that out loud.  
John sighed. "Liz, it's alright. We can break this off."  
"Um, John, there's one more thing..." she continued, while nervously twisting her fingers together.  
"I've gotten married to Sherlock."


	3. Chapter 3

_6 months later_

Sherlock was happy. He _was_ (oh shut up Mycroft) whatever anyone else says. He was feeling love, right? And normal people like loving other people. And if he was normal, John would like him. John always said you should marry the woman you should love! John will _like _him now. He couldn't possibly like Sherlock as he normally is, Sherlock keeps heads in the fridge, drops eyeballs in tea, conducts horrid experiments, is rude, and drags John off to crime scene. Sherlock _knows_ that, he knows John couldn't possibly like him.

John moves out of the flat.

Well, he must have come to his senses. He probably hated Sherlock from the beginning, probably just needed the adrenaline rush and an actual flatmate for rent.

He doesn't need John. He never needed John. He has a wife that Anderson is jealous of (not that Anderson is a great specimen of a man, but it's the thought), that Greg seems to get tongue-tied over, and Mycroft hates. Perfect attributes.

Right? 

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He's booooorrrrreeeed. He's sooo booorredd. Sherlock doesn't come out to play anymore, and the good doctor finally moved out (thank god for that). Moriarty is BORED! Do you understand?

"Sebbbiieee!" he yelled.  
No answer.  
BANG!  
A gunshot rings throughout the flat, and Sebastian comes running in.  
"What the hell, Jim?" he growls  
Moriarty sweetly blinks his eyelashes.  
"Sebbie," he drawls in a honeyed tone, "I'm_ soooo_ bored. Wanna go and play with Sherlock again?"  
Sebastian's lips curl up into a shark smile, teeth all showing.  
Moriarty grins.  
"Time to play another game!" 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: 

John wakes up blearily, then snaps to attention. He's tied to a chair and gagged. John scans his surroundings, takes in the camera that's set up on the side, and sees Moriarty.

"Hi Johnny."  
John glared.  
"Oh Johnny-boy, don't be so _rude._"  
Sullen silence.  
"I said, SPEAK UP!" He shrieked.  
"What the hell do you want?"

Moriarty smirked.  
"Oh Johnny, Johnny. You're here as the damsel-in-distress! I was so happy when you moved out of good old Baker Street, but Sherlock is _pining _after you. He's so BORING! So, you're here to provide a little... excitement."  
John spat.  
"Well, let's start with the whip, shall we?"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: 

No, this can't be right. This _cannot be correct._ John is _safe,_ John has moved out, Moriarty isn't interested in John anymore. He can't be.  
"Sherlock? Sherlock, are you alright?" Elizabeth touched a hand to his shoulder.  
Life with Elizabeth was at first satisfying. She shut up, stayed quiet, didn't try to move his messes, and was entirely pleasant! in bed. She didn't annoy him with nagging about the milk, or asking stupid questions, or try to get rid of his experiments. But even sex wasn't really enough after a while. She didn't make him feel extraordinarily clever, or make the I'm-exasperated-with-you-git-but-you're-still-wonderful face.  
But now, John was in _danger. John_ was tied up, _John_ was being whipped,_ John_ was the one in pain. And truth to be told, if the same thing had happened to Elizabeth, Sherlock wouldn't have felt even half the rage he did now.  
Elizabeth happened to glance at the screen, and she paled.  
John was bound to the floor, face turned to the side, whip lashes streaking his skin red.  
"Is th-that John?" she whispered.  
He strode to the entrance, grabbed his coat.  
"I'm going to get him back."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

John _growled.  
_"Incorrect! Try again!" he sang. The whip lashed against his skin, leaving another deep cut.  
"Wanna give me a kiss Johnny boy?" Moriarty asked.  
"I will never give in to your sick perversions."  
"Ooo honey, your dirty talk is soooo sexy!"  
"Shut up Moriarty." John snarled.  
"You should take lessons in manners, Johnny."  
"Oh, because drugging someone, stuffing them in a van, then chaining them up to torture them isn't considered impolite?"  
"Oh my, Sherlock's pet is getting_ rude_." He leaned in.  
"But your Sherlock will come for you."  
"No he won't. He's not _my_ Sherlock. He doesn't care about me."  
"Oh pet, you know as well as I do that for _John Watson_ he will tear the world down."  
"No, he won't. Because Sherlock bloody Holmes has gotten himself married."

"WHHHAAAAAATT?!"  
His face broke into a mask of fury. He grabbed a knife from the table of torture devices, lifted it up above John's head and...  
sliced apart his bindings.  
"I don't care how it happens. But we will get rid of the ugly _bitch."_  
John rubbed at his wrists, then held out a hand.  
"Truce?"  
Moriarty shook it.  
"Call me Jim."


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock strode out of the flat, calling Mycroft on the way.  
"He's got John."  
"Get in the surveillance car and meet me at the Diogenes."

At the Diogenes, Sherlock was fuming.  
"How could this happen?"  
"I assure you, I had the best of men and women watching over John."  
"Excuses, brother mine. _Where is he."  
_"Security cameras and some of my best operatives spent some time-"  
"Irrelevant. Do you _know where he is."  
_"Yes." Mycroft answers. 

He runs into the warehouse and-

John's not there.  
Bloodstains. Scuff-marks. Whip imprints and shoe prints.  
John struggled for a while. Moriarty will _pay._

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"So." John said.  
They were at a coffeehouse. John had ordered a plain black coffee, and Moriarty(no, Jim) had ordered some frothy sweet pink drink. What did one say to a psychopathic criminal lord whom you were working with because you were jealous of your best friend's wife?  
"Why don't we start with fake bait, Johnny? Entice sweet Sherlock out and _persuade_ him to get rid of that woman?"  
"Bait is a good idea, but no physical violence." John said firmly.  
Moriarty pouted.  
"So boring. Well then," he drawled,"Why don't we send him another video of you? 

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Click.  
Play.

"Hey sexy. Let's play a game!" Moriarty giggled.  
"I get to play with John. And unless you _listen_, John will lose something rather- _dear_ to him. I heard Harry and Clara are visiting the Watsons in Cornwall."  
His face turned contemplative.  
"Or I could go classic and torture him. I did hear that our dear Captain has PTSD from his time at war," he mused.  
"But that's beside the point!" he said brightly.  
And then his face twisted into something ugly and he snarled at the camera.  
"Get rid of that _bitch _Elizabeth Wilson or let John face the consequences."

The video froze on the last image of Moriarty's face.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

When Sherlock returns to the flat, Elizabeth is white-faced and pale with fear and guilt.  
"Is Jo-"  
"Out."  
"What?" her face changes, confusion evident.  
"Get out. I'll send you the divorce papers."  
"Sherlock-"  
"I said. Get. Out."  
"But why so suddenly-"  
"John is being _tortured_ and it is _your fault._ Get out my flat. Didn't you hear me, woman? Get OUT!" he roared.  
She squeaks and gets out.  
There's a knock at the door.  
"Jim." snarls Sherlock.  
"Hi honey! Brought back your favorite pet!" he says brightly.  
John is standing behind him, in reasonably good physical condition.  
"Now, I heard of this stupidity with _Elizabeth. _Let me make this clear Sherlock. Touch another woman and someone you love _will die._ No one touches my playthings."  
"I'm not your plaything."  
"Yes, yes, semantics." Jim waves the comment away.  
"And one last thing. Go marry John. It's clear that you are infatuated with him, not that silly bitch. I may not like Dr. Watson, but he is much more interesting than _that," _he pauses, lip curling in distaste,"Woman."  
"_What._" Sherlock, for once, is speechless.  
"Oh surely you do realize that those 'emotions' you were feeling were not of jealousy towards John, but Elizabeth."  
Sherlock is gaping, John is flushing red, and Moriarty is rolling his eyes.  
"_Emotions._ Sherlock sweetie, you simply must brush up on those. Well then, gotta go. People to torture, crimes to organize. Ta."  
And with that, Moriarty steps neatly into a car and drives away.

"Sherlock is that-"  
"John I thought-"  
They speak simultaneously, then shut up.  
"Um, you go first." John says.  
"I. Ah, may have misinterpreted these feelings. Erm."  
"Oh shut up you stupid man," John says, and kisses him. Emphatically.  
Sherlock, for once, is stripped of all thought, and kisses right back, until they're both panting and sporting kiss-bruised mouths.  
"Bed?" John asks.  
"Oh god, yes."


End file.
